


hold me just like that

by ieri



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hand Jobs, Late Night Conversations, M/M, just two boys trusting each other, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24053515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ieri/pseuds/ieri
Summary: Andrew likes it when Neil is loud.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 206





	hold me just like that

**Author's Note:**

> yes i wrote this at three am. no i am not ashamed. enjoy!

They pull into the gas station at two AM, the sky black and spattered with stars. The neon lights of the station light up Andrew’s face in multicoloured glares of orange and pink. Even this late at night, South Carolina is still awfully humid and muggy. Summer hit in full force only a week ago, sending heat waves across the state, making night the only decent temperature to withstand. 

It goes like this most nights-- a silent offer of Andrew’s hand, the humming of the car engine. The acrid taste of smoke in his mouth and the soft, insistent press of Andrew’s lips. It happens often enough that Neil relishes in the familiarity of it. 

And other things happen, too. Like the debauched, colored look on Andrew’s face that only Neil gets to see. The slick feel of his hand against Neil, the way his kisses burn like lava when they’re in the backseat. 

The chilly air in the gas station is a relief from the humidity of the night when they stumble in. Neil savors the cold and takes a deep breath of it, feeling the sweat bead at his neck. Andrew immediately heads to the front, probably to buy more cigarettes and a handle of vodka, while Neil absentmindedly browses the tabloid magazines in the back. He flips through them until Andrew beckons from the door with a pack of cigarettes in his sweatshirt pocket. Neil follows him to the Maserati, parked in the opposite corner of the lot out of the security camera’s view, and sighs in relief as he slides back into the air conditioning. 

“Here,” Andrew says. A frosty bottle of orange juice drops into Neil’s lap, sweaty with condensation. It’s cool against his skin, and Neil cracks the top open. He gratefully takes a sip, relishing the cold. A top 40 song blares out gently from the radio. Neil tilts his head back, already feeling refreshed, and exhales quietly. 

The ends of Andrew’s hair curl up when they’re sweaty, as Neil knows from personal experience, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the flushed look at Andrew’s temple. Andrew lights a cigarette, rolling the window down just slightly; Neil takes another gulp of orange juice, the citrus both bitter and sweet on his tongue. The leather in the car sticks to his bare arms. Andrew has that look on his face where Neil knows he’s trying not to watch, but ends up watching anyway. 

It’s calm, and quiet, and hot in more ways than one, and Neil loves it. 

Andrew blows the last bit of smoke out, and Neil watches it fade out the rolled-down window. The smoky scent doesn’t remind him of his mother anymore, it hasn’t for years. Now it reminds him of Andrew-- of his firm, grounding touch, of endless nights spent up on the roof, of skin slick against skin. 

There’s a noticeable spike in tension in the car, and Neil catches onto it when Andrew’s gaze tracks up and down his body, hot and heavy lidded.

“Yes or no?” Andrew says, tossing the butt out the window. His gaze is heated, and Neil murmurs  _ yes  _ before Andrew’s leaning across the console and kissing him, open mouthed and slow. Neil braces a hand on the armrest to keep himself upright as Andrew kisses him into oblivion. His touch is fire and Neil presses himself into him as close as possible. The angle is slightly uncomfortable, the armrest digging into Neil’s back, but Andrew’s already sliding a hand into his boxers and then Neil loses his train of thought. 

They’re in an empty gas station parking lot, Neil realizes suddenly, and anyone could see them through the tinted windows. He flushes at the thought, unbelievably turned on. 

He gasps  _ yes _ as soon as Andrew’s hand reaches him. Sweat rolls down the small of Neil’s back, despite the air conditioning, and he arches up into Andrew’s touch. He can still taste the slight tang of the orange juice in the back of his throat, and Andrew tastes like the smoky aftertaste of a cigarette, and there’s a heavy pull of arousal in his gut that’s rising. An uncontained moan escapes Neil, and then Andrew’s tongue is in his mouth. He tries to stay quiet, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to what’s happening in the Maserati even though the possibility of someone watching them makes him hot all over.

Andrew draws back.  His lips are reddened and spit-slick, and his eyes are nearly black from being dilated. “You can make noise, you know.” 

“I--” Neil whines as Andrew’s hand slows, needing the friction, needing his touch. “We’re in public, what if someone hears--”

“Let them hear,” Andrew says, and Neil moans again, low and unbidden. “Let them know what we’re doing. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Letting everyone know that you’re mine.”

“Do you want me to?” Neil asks, voice ragged, trying to ignore how much Andrew’s words are affecting him. “Be louder?”

Andrew considers him for a moment, and Neil imagines how he must look underneath Andrew’s body, desperate and wanting. 

“Yes,” Andrew says, and leans closer to Neil’s ear, his voice dropping lower. “I like it when you’re loud. I like knowing how much you like this. How easy it is for you to fall apart.” 

Well then. 

Another helpless noise slips out, Andrew’s words igniting arousal in his gut. Anyone could see how he’s coming undone beneath Andrew’s hands, how he’s _Andrew’s_ and _Andrew’s alone._ And Andrew likes hearing how loud he is, how much he loves this. Neil lets another loud, pleading moan slip out, and he catches the tail end of a smirk on Andrew’s face. 

Two can play at that game. Neil’s mouth dips to Andrew’s neck and he savors the shudder that runs through Andrew’s body.  _ Your neck fetish is not attractive,  _ he can almost hear Andrew saying, and tries to stop a smile from spreading across his face. He knows how much Andrew is enjoying his neck fetish, if the small sounds coming out of his mouth are anything to go by. 

Andrew’s pace picks back up again, and Neil wants  _ more--  _ he wants Andrew’s mouth on him, he wants every part of Andrew pressed up against him, all mouth-watering strength and solidity. 

“Can I leave a mark?” Neil gasps. Andrew makes an  _ mhm  _ sound and Neil sucks at his neck, working on bringing red to the surface. Andrew’s hand coaxes out endless gasps and whines, and Neil can tell how much his sounds are turning Andrew on. His hands twist into Andrew’s hair, everything about him hot and insistent and never-ending. 

He can’t miss the fine shivers through Andrew’s body from Neil’s kissing, and Neil’s legs tremble from how close he is to coming. He pulls back slightly to admire the reddened handiwork on Andrew’s neck, and his head falls back, chest rising and falling in pleasure. Andrew’s pace never slows, and Neil’s heart leaps into his throat. 

“Andrew,” he says, voice trembling, “I’m so close, I’m going to come--”

“Come for me, baby,” Andrew says, his voice low, and kisses him fiercely, all consuming. Neil comes with a muffled cry into Andrew’s mouth. Pleasure washes over him, and Andrew swallows his moans down easily. Andrew works him through his orgasm until Neil is nearly crying from the oversensitivity.

Neil takes another shuddering breath as he tries to regain some semblance of control over his body, skin overheated. He feels boneless and jellylike after the intense rush of pleasure. Andrew looks about the same, even from Neil just kissing his neck. He’s watching Neil intently, a mix of intimacy and heat in his eyes. Neil can’t miss the tenting in Andrew’s jeans, and reaches out a hand tentatively.

“Can I get you off?” He doesn’t know if Andrew will say yes; sometimes Andrew’s fine with just getting Neil off, enjoying how Neil falls apart under his touch, and sometimes he gets off with Neil, trusting Neil to hold him steady. 

“Yes,” Andrew says, and he guides Neil’s hand into his pants. Neil uses every trick in the book he knows to get Andrew gasping, setting a pace that Andrew likes. Andrew leans into Neil’s shoulder, a shiver wracking his frame, and begins pressing open-mouthed kisses to Neil’s neck. Neil can feel him sucking a hickey into his neck but doesn’t mind; in the morning it’ll darken, and Neil will have a physical reminder of this night. It’s a wonderful mix of pleasure and pain, Andrew sucking and biting and trailing kisses over his neck. Neil knows he has Andrew close to the edge, and quickens his pace, knowing exactly what to do.

Andrew’s breath hitches, and he comes over Neil’s hand, messy and gasping and flushed. Neil wipes his hand off on his sweatpants and kisses Andrew again, slow and easy. Andrew’s tongue licks into his mouth and their kiss is sloppy, but Neil loves it. 

He loves nights like these: Andrew’s touch taking him over the edge, the blissful feeling of Andrew’s trust, the exhaustion after they both finish. They both slump back into their seats. Neil’s boxers are sticky, but he couldn’t care less. The windows are almost fogged up from their heat, and Andrew rolls his down enough to let some fresh air in. Neil still can’t shake the exciting, arousing feeling that anyone could have just watched or listened, seen how easy it was for Neil to become debauched and undone. He also can’t ignore how Andrew likes how loud he can be, a tangible sign of how much Andrew affects him.

Hopefully this won’t become a new kink for him. 

Neil’s breaths slow, and he asks “Home?” He wants to shower, with Andrew, and possibly get off again, with Andrew’s mouth on him this time, hot and slick. He wants to feel the weight of Andrew in his mouth if he would let him, he wants to learn the best way to make Andrew fall apart using just his tongue. He wants to suck bruises into Andrew’s hipbones and see the marks the next morning.  _ I want to see you lose control,  _ Neil once had said, and he still wants to. 

“Home,” Andrew agrees, and the engine purrs to life beneath them. Andrew offers his hand out, palm up across the console, and Neil links their fingers together. 

Three words rise in his mind, unfettered, and Neil doesn’t try to push them away. There will be more nights like this, and there will be more chances to tell Andrew that he loves him. For now, Neil lets the wind flow into the car, and watches Andrew drive, content.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave comments/kudos, i would really appreciate some love or feedback :)


End file.
